


unfortunately, a lot of people have the same shoe size

by Waddles889



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cinderella Fusion, Cinderella Elements, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Miscommunication, Prince Victor Nikiforov, Rated teen for swearing, but like its funny, comments appreciated!!!, this was supposed to be a oneshot but i severely miscalculated, victor "bad ideas" nikiforov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:08:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29170110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waddles889/pseuds/Waddles889
Summary: Yuuri picks up the invitation and looks at it, really looks at it. Yuuko’s right, he could wear a mask. And if he got to talk to Victor, he thinks it could be pretty nice. And if he ends up wanting to leave halfway through, no one would know him as the guy who ditched before the party ended.ORVictor wants to find Yuuri, Yuuri keeps leaving the ball early, and everyone around them wants to scream.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 47
Kudos: 218





	1. sochi grand prix banquet TWO!!

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [it was supposed to be easy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27852782) by [skyways_are_highways](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyways_are_highways/pseuds/skyways_are_highways). 



> this is a spiritual successor to a zukka fic. they have nothing in common except for vibes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor throws a party. Yuuri gets drunk. Yurio hates everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a preface: the setting of this story makes no sense historically or geographically. if ur here for historical accuracy this is not the fic for u i have no idea when this takes place (just vaguely fantasy-like time period) or where it's set (just some fictional country ig. don't worry about it)
> 
> other than that i hope this is as funny to you as it was for me while writing

Yuuri finishes lacing up his skates and steps tentatively onto the ice.

“It’s fine, I checked it out earlier!” Yuuko says. “Would I really let you skate on an unstable lake like that?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Yuuri mutters. He skates out to the center of the lake and does a couple twizzles. 

“You promised not to mention that ever again!” 

“Sure.”

Yuuko shakes her head and crosses her arms. “Whatever. What did you want to show me?”

Yuuri steels himself and takes the starting position: head down, arms by his side, left leg crossed behind his right. A gasp escapes Yuuko, and a smile tugs at the corner of Yuuri’s mouth.

He performs the routine with practiced ease. There’s no music, but he counts out each beat in his head, perfectly in time. Prince Victor’s original performance is ingrained in his mind, which makes it easy to keep track of each jump and spin.

Yuuri spins into the final position, panting. Sweat plasters his bangs to his forehead and he can feel his face flush.

Applause breaks out.

“That was _amazing!_ When did you even learn that? It was so beautiful!”

Yuuri breaks from the pose to look at Yuuko, who’s holding back tears. He raises an eyebrow. 

“It was a perfect copy of V--”

She trails off, staring at something over Yuuri’s shoulder.

“Of, uhhh…”

Yuuko raises a hand in greeting. “Um, hi?”

Yuuri glances behind him. Someone on horseback had stopped, likely to watch Yuuri skate, which Yuuri carefully does _not_ think about and instead turns to take his skates off.

“Hi!” the stranger says. “That was a wonderful performance!”

“Thanks,” Yuuri says. He pulls his boots back on and stands up, brushing snow off of his pants.

“How long have you been skating?”

“Uhh… I think I started when I was twelve? Or something.”

“Wow! You have the most entrancing step sequences.”

Yuuri flushes. “Thanks. That’s my favorite part.”

Yuuko gapes at him, looking back and forth between him and the stranger. She opens and closes her mouth like a fish, face progressively getting redder and redder. 

Yuuri’s missing something.

He puts his skates into his bag and slings it over his shoulder. “Yuuko, are you ready to go? My next shift is in fifteen minutes, so we should start walking back soon.”

Yuuko continues to stare at him, nodding mutely. Yuuri frowns.

Another horse trots down the path.

“Prince Victor, we need to go.”

“Oh, sorry, I was just watching this skater--”

Yuuri does not hear the rest of the conversation.

 _Prince Victor?_ Like, _the_ Prince Victor? The Victor who Yuuri saw skating one day when he was twelve and was immediately entranced with? The Victor who inspired Yuuri to take up skating? _That_ Victor?

Slowly, like in a horror story, Yuuri turns his head. He feels like he’s underwater.

The man on the horse is dressed in expensive clothing, with a long brown coat and riding boots, and a gold brooch emblazoned with the royal crest pinned to his lapel. His shock of silver hair means there’s no mistaking it.

_Yuuri just had a conversation with the prince and didn’t realize until it was too late._

His life is over. That’s it. He’s gone, he’s dead, he’s six feet under ground in a casket never to see the light of day again.

“I hope to see you skate again soon!” Victor calls, and rides off.

Yuuri is frozen to the spot.

The second Victor and his friend are out of earshot, Yuuko squeals, throwing her arms around Yuuri in a bone-crushing hug. 

“I can’t believe that just happened!” she screams directly into Yuuri’s ear. “You just talked to the ice prince himself! And he _complimented you!”_

Yuuri can’t seem to form any words. Only indecipherable panicked noises.

“It’s a good thing he didn’t get mad at you for copying his program but _wow!_ He said he wants to see you _again!”_

Finally, Yuuri finds his voice. “I-- I’m sure that was just a thing he said to be nice. I can’t-- He-- okay, so Victor saw me skate.”

It hasn’t quite sunk in yet.

_“Victor saw you skate!”_

“Can we- can we just go back to the hot springs? I don’t… I need to process--”

Yuuko pulls away from him and nods furiously. “Yeah, of course. That’s a _lot_ to take in.” She grins, and whispers almost to herself, “Victor saw you skate.”

Yuuri wants to stare at the wall and rethink everything about his life.

~~~

Yakov closes the door behind him when he enters.

No escape from whatever lecture this is, apparently. Victor scoots his chair back from his desk so he can rest his head on his arms, looking at Yakov through his hair. Yakov looks at him, unimpressed, before launching into whatever speech he has prepared.

“You need to pick a suitor.”

Victor huffs. “Believe me, Yakov, I’m aware.”

“I’m not sure you are. You’re twenty seven, Victor. and you still don’t have a next of kin.”

“I thought we decided that was Yuri!”

 _“Unofficially,_ yes. But you still have to pick a suitor before we can _announce_ that.”

“That’s a lame rule.”

“Victor, just this once. Just once, will you do what I ask?”

Victor sits up and props his chin up on his hand. “I thought people were supposed to address the prince with respect.”

“I’ll do that once you earn it.”

Victor whistles. “Fine. What do you have in mind?”

Yakov pulls up a chair and sits down, unfolding a list of options he’d tucked away in his jacket pocket. It’s not nearly as long as Victor expected. He’s not sure whether he should be offended or not.

“As it stands, we have few options. How you got your reputation as a playboy, I’ll never understand, but the fact of the matter is this: you could marry your friend Christophe--”

“I think I’ll pass. Chris is great, but I’m pretty sure he’s in love with that one guy from--”

“--you could marry Michele,” Yakov continues.

“That guy weirds me out,” Victor says. Yakov sighs.

“Or you could marry Jean-Jac--”

Victor splutters. _“No._ Absolutely not. I refuse to be in the same room as him. He is the _straightest man I have ever--”_

“Vitya, if you don’t choose someone to marry, I will _pick for you_ , and I will do everything in my power to make sure it is the most miserable decision I could possibly make.”

Victor slumps in his chair, letting his forehead smack into the wooden desk with a thunk. “Why do you hate seeing me happy?” he whines. Is he being a _bit_ overly dramatic? Yes. Does his head hurt now? Yes. Is it worth it to rile up Yakov? Of course.

“If you can find another solution, be my guest. But if you say any bullshit--”

Victor sits bolt upright with a gasp. “We can throw a ball!”

_“What.”_

“You know, a ball! Like…” he snaps his fingers. “A masquerade! And we can invite everyone and I’ll dance with everyone there and we’ll fall in love and then we can reveal our identities at, like, midnight? And then whoever I like the most I’ll marry!”

Victor finishes his proposal with a flourish and a grin.

Yakov stares at him.

Well, it’s more of a glare than anything else, but Yakov always looks angry. Victor likes to think there’s a heart of gold under there. See, there’s a twinkle in his eye--

“Your lack of perspective on anything astounds me,” Yakov says.

Okay, maybe not.

Victor crosses his arms. “I can wear a mask, too, so people don’t try to throw the whole thing off. Why, do you have a _better_ idea?”

“Literally any of the people I suggested would be a better idea than a stranger you meet at a masquerade.”

Victor pulls out his best puppy dog eyes.

Yakov continues to glare.

Victor bats his eyelashes.

Yakov throws his hands up. “Fine, we’ll try the ball. Just don’t bat your eyelashes at me ever again.”

“Success!”

~~~

The prince is giving a ball.

 _Specifically,_ the prince is giving a ball to find a potential suitor _and_ everyone who can go is invited.

“You _have_ to go to the ball, Yuuri,” Yuuko says. Yuuri ignores her and continues to wipe down the counter. “He said he wanted to see you again! This is your chance to sweep him off his feet!”

Yuuri snorts. “Yeah, _me._ Sweep _him_ off his feet. Sure.”

“I think you should do it. Besides, it’s a masquerade! He won’t know it’s you unless you want him to know!”

Yuuri pauses.

She has a point.

But no, he can’t. He doesn’t care for parties that much, anyway. Too loud, too many people.

And yet… Victor _did_ say…

No, he can’t.

…Could he?

“I have work tonight.”

“Just have Mari do it.”

Damn it.

Yuuri sets his dust cloth down and looks at the invitation, where it rests on the end of the counter. It’s light blue, written in a glittering golden ink that reflects the candlelight. There’s something so tempting about it.

“I’ll let you think about it,” Yuuko says, and leaves the building.

Yuuri picks up the invitation and looks at it, really looks at it. Yuuko’s right, he could wear a mask. And if he got to talk to Victor, he thinks it could be pretty nice. And if he ends up wanting to leave halfway through, no one would know him as the guy who ditched before the party ended.

A bark snaps him out of his thoughts. He looks down at Vicchan, sitting at his feet. The poodle lets his tongue hang sloppily out of his mouth. Yuuri smiles and ruffles his fur.

He goes to check his closet for something to wear.

That night, he knocks frantically on Phichit’s door until it swings open and Yuuri tumbles forward into the room.

“Hey, woah, what’s up?” Phichit laughs.

“I’m--” Yuuri catches his breath and tugs on the hem of his suit jacket. “I’m going to the ball, the one the prince is throwing?” he clarifies, as if there’s any other ball of note happening that night, “and I need help. To look good.”

Phichit’s face lights up.

“Yuuri, you’ve come to the right place.”

He drags Yuuri fully into the room and closes the door, making a beeline for his wardrobe. Yuuri waits anxiously in the hall, listening to Phichit rummage through drawers and hangers, muttering to himself.

He emerges a couple minutes later, arms laden with a variety of… stuff.

“First things first,” he says, dropping them all unceremoniously on the floor of the parlor, “is we are getting you out of that suit and into something fashionable.”

Yuuri looks down at his outfit. It’s pretty simple, just a black suit with a blue tie ~~that reminds him of Victor’s eyes.~~ “Is it that bad?”

“The second I can get ahold of it, I am _burning_ that tie.”

Yuuri frowns.

“Anyway,” Phichit says, “if you _really_ want to impress Victor, we’re going to have to give you a makeover.”

“Hey, I said nothing about impressing Victor! What if I just want to go to the ball and have a nice time?”

Phichit fixes him with a Look.

Yuuri stares back.

Phichit raises an eyebrow.

“...Yeah, even as I said it, I didn’t believe it.” Yuuri sits down in front of Phichit. “Alright, what do we have lined up?”

Over the course of the next hour, Phichit and Yuuri go through almost all of Phichit’s clothes. The pile in the corner of the room grows to unfathomable heights, dismissed by Phichit as either not flattering enough, not Yuuri’s color (“You are a _winter,_ Yuuri, _not_ an autumn,”), not formal enough, not danceable enough, or not gay enough.

Yuuri finds himself staring at his reflection in the mirror at the final outfit, Phichit chewing on his nails behind him.

It’s something Phichit brought with him from Thailand: a light blue long-sleeved shirt buttoned in the front with a high collar, paired with a pair of darker blue pants. The left side of the shirt is a matte fabric, while the right side is made of a shimmering, floral patterned material. Yuuri runs his hands over the cuffs of the sleeves, made from the same shimmering fabric.

He turns to Phichit, arms out. “What do you think?”

Phichit grins. “I think that’s perfect. Now let’s take care of your hair situation.”

He unscrews a container of time period inaccurate hair gel and rubs it into Yuuri’s hair, slicking his bangs back out of his face. Yuuri takes off his glasses and closes his eyes, wincing when Phichit pulls too hard.

“Alright, I think you’re ready to go woo your man,” Phichit says, admiring his handiwork. Yuuri opens his eyes and looks over his shoulder at the mirror. He can’t really see too well without his glasses, but from what he _can_ see, he looks pretty good. The slicked back hair works for him in a way he honestly had not expected.

Something occurs to him.

“Wait, are you gonna come to the ball, too? I feel bad taking your fancy clothes.”

“Oh, no. I have other plans. Go wild with my fancy clothes, dude.”

“These other plans wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with Seung Gil, would they?” Yuuri says with a grin.

“If I hadn’t just done your hair, I would hit you with a pillow right now.”

~~~

Victor is beginning to think the ball was a mistake.

Okay, well maybe not the idea of the ball itself. _That_ was genius, and a totally valid way of finding a husband, and Yakov was just being judgemental. The problem was that somehow, despite his cool masquerade mask, people kept recognizing him, which was the _opposite_ of what he wanted.

“Maybe it’s just the waves of homosexual energy you radiate,” Christophe says, sipping at a glass of champagne. “Everyone knows the prince is gay as hell, so they picked out the gayest looking person in the room and ended up being right.”

Victor hums. “You’d think that would deter the women from trying to win me over, wouldn’t you?”

“Got me there,” Chris says. He smiles against the rim of the glass. “You can’t help but feel bad for them. They really think they can do something about it.”

Victor leans against the wall and sighs.

He hears Yuri approach before he sees him. He supposes Yuri would be pretty likely to recognize him, but he’d like to think it would’ve been harder with the mask.

“Hey asshole, why aren’t you dancing with anyone? Wasn’t this your idea in the first place?” Yuri says. Victor smiles coldly at him.

“I’m taking a break. Can’t I catch up with old friends at a party?”

“No,” Yuri hisses. He’s like an angry kitten. “Yakov is going to take your head off if you don’t find someone to talk to by the end of the night. And then he’ll take _my_ head off because I didn’t force you to socialize.”

“You’re young, Yura, you don’t understand how love works.”

“Yeah, I’m sure standing in the corner and staring wistfully at the dance floor at _your own party_ is _exactly_ how you find true love.” Yuri says. He huffs, blowing his blonde hair out of his face. Victor wishes he’d let him braid it. It’s always hanging in his eyes. How can he see like that?

Yuri glares at him for another moment, then rolls his eyes and gives up, stalking off. On his way, he collides with another man and launches into a rant. The poor guy looks so confused.

Victor swipes a flute of champagne off of the refreshment table and takes a sip.

“Excuse me, are you Prince Victor, by chance?” someone asks.

He groans. Seriously, _how_ is everyone seeing through the disguise?

~~~

Yuuri notices Victor immediately.

He’s kind of hard to miss, with that silver hair of his.

The ballroom is huge. Floor-to-ceiling windows are spaced out across the walls, outlined in ornate floral trim. Sheer white curtains flutter as party guests dance by, their skirts swishing in time with the band playing. A few crystal chandeliers dangle from the ceiling, which is painted in intricate gold designs mirroring the design laid into the smooth, hardwood floors. It’s breathtaking, and so full of people Yuuri would believe the entire kingdom had showed up.

Anyway, Yuuri spots Victor across the room, wearing a long gray jacket and shiny, floral patterned waistcoat, and instantly wishes he hadn’t come.

What was he thinking? A throwaway comment from earlier that morning did _not_ qualify as a formal invitation to attempt to… to _woo_ him.

Everything is too hot and too loud and too crowded and Yuuri wishes he could just go home but if Phichit found out he hadn’t even tried to talk to Victor he’d never hear the end of it so he had to at least _try_ but that meant he had to walk all the way across the ballroom and maybe talk to other people and then he’d have to figure out what to say and what if Victor didn’t even remember him? How embarrassing would that be?

Yuuri downs an entire glass of champagne in one go.

Two more glasses of champagne later and Yuuri prepares himself to attempt conversation. He sets his glass down, makes sure his mask is securely over his face, brushes nonexistent dirt off of his shirt, and takes a deep breath.

Okay. It’s time.

Victor is standing near the refreshment table. Yuuri just needs to walk over there, say hi, ask if he remembers the skater from this morning, and hopefully the entire conversation won’t be a disaster.

And then he collides with someone.

“Oh, sorry!” he says. 

“Hey, watch it! I have places to be, you know. I can’t storm off dramatically if I run into someone because they weren’t looking where the hell they were going like any normal person with any respect for other people!”

“Uh… sorry?”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

The teenager storms off again, muttering under his breath. Yuuri watches him go, perplexed. 

When he turns to make his way over to Victor, he’s gone.

How did he _miss_ him? 

Maybe it wasn’t meant to be.

He takes another glass of champagne.

~~~

Something is happening on the other side of the ballroom.

Victor isn’t sure if it’s a _good_ thing, but it certainly sounds interesting, and _anything_ would be better than the conversation he’s been trapped in with the most boring man on the planet. He can’t remember the guy’s name, and honestly, it doesn’t matter, because he’s already making his way across the room.

The sight he’s greeted with is…

Well.

It’s _something._

Somehow, one of the guests is _very_ drunk.

Victor’s not exactly sure how. They’ve only been serving champagne, which isn’t typically what people think of when they want to get _that_ drunk, but hey, Victor can respect it.

“You yelled at me earlier so now we have to have a” --the man hiccups-- “a dance off.”

“A _what?”_ spits the boy the drunk man is talking to, and Victor realizes with a start he’s talking to _Yuri._

“You heard me,” the man slurs. He leans in close to Yuri, who scrunches his nose in disgust. “A _dance off,”_ he whispers.

“I am _not_ dancing with you.”

The man leans back, hands on his hips. “Scared I’ll beat you?”

The disgust on Yuri’s face contorts into rage. “Absolutely not. I’d wipe the floor with you. I’m being _courteous_ by not embarrassing you in front of all of these people.”

“Soundsta me like you’re _scaaaared._ ”

“Okay, you know what? I won’t be nice.” Yuri pulls off his jacket and drops it, arm extended for full dramatic effect. “I’m going to absolutely _destroy_ you in this dance battle.”

Whatever Victor expected from a dance battle between fifteen year old Yuri and a completely hammered man who seems to be too drunk to stay standing, _this wasn’t it._

This _for sure_ wasn’t it.

For one, the drunk guy is _killing it._ He moves as if his body contains the music itself. For two, Yuri is _definitely_ losing.

Christophe bursts out laughing. He runs over to the band and starts talking emphatically, waving his hands and gesturing back to the dance off. Victor can’t help a smile breaking across his face.

The band switches from the waltz they’d been playing to something way more energetic and upbeat. The drunk man adjusts to this change instantly and does a surprisingly impressive handstand. Yuri tries his best to break out his cooler dance moves, but he really just doesn’t hold a candle to this guy.

The second the song ends, Yuri collapses in a heap on the floor, arms splayed out and chest heaving as he gasps for breath. The drunk man whirls around until he locks eyes with Victor. “I won, right?” he demands.

The blood rushes to Victor’s face.

Now that he has a better look at the man’s face, he can’t look away. His face is flushed from the alcohol, painting the skin that’s visible under his mask a rosy red. Strands of dark hair --which previously had been slicked back, but now was starting to come undone-- frame his face. He brushes a lock of hair out of his deep brown eyes. ~~He’s beautiful.~~

Victor grins. “Yeah, I’d say you won.”

On the floor, Yuri screams.

“Sorry, Котёнок. You tried your best.”

“I’m going to slaughter you when I get up,” Yuri promises. Victor ignores him.

He turns his attention back to the ~~beautiful~~ drunk man. “What’s your name? I think we should get you some water.”

The man hiccups. “I don’t-- issa secret.”

Victor knits his eyebrows together, smiling. “Yeah, sure. It’s a secret.”

He steps closer to Victor, wobbling dangerously. Victor holds his hands out, wondering if he should try to keep him from face planting. The man reaches blindly out, steadying himself on Victor’s shoulder. The blush on Victor’s face deepens.

“You’re” --the drunk man hiccups-- “you’re pretty, Victor.”

“My mask _really_ didn’t prevent anyone from recognizing me, huh,” is all Victor can think to say. The man giggles and leans even closer towards Victor, so close he can smell the alcohol on his breath.

“You have silver hair,” he whispers, as if it’s a secret that Victor’s hearing for the first time. Victor looks up at his bangs. His smile widens.

“My family runs a hot springs, you should come visit! I like it ‘cause it’s also close to a lake and I go there to-- h-hey, I got an idea! If I- if I win the dance off, will you” --the man hiccups again-- “will you watch me skate?”

“Watch you skate?”

“Yeaahh!! I learned how to skate after I saw you once and I thought you were so beautiful and your hair was soooo long so I learned how to ice skate and I want you to see it.”

Victor is _not_ prepared for this.

“Of course I’ll watch you skate. But who are you dance battling?”

The man leans in so close so suddenly that he nearly knocks their foreheads together. “You.”

Victor steadies the man, bracing his hands on his hips. “Can’t I just dance with you instead?” he finds himself asking before his brain catches up with his mouth.

 _“Yes,”_ he breathes.

The band is playing another song now, more upbeat, faster, more rhythmic. The man slips an arm around Victor’s waist and pulls him away from the crowd and onto the dance floor, spinning him around a couple times before letting go and pulling away, holding onto Victor’s hand by the fingertips.

The man seems to know what he’s doing, so Victor lets him lead, spinning him in, spinning him out, leading him around the circle, pulling him close. 

“Give him something to work with, Victor!” Chris yells from somewhere off to the side. “You look like a rodeo clown!”

“How do I look like a _rodeo clown?_ How is that in any way related--”

The man gasps. “Oh, like those bull guys? With the flags?” 

A laugh bubbles out of Victor’s chest. He pulls away and takes off his jacket, waving it like a flag. The man giggles, puts two fingers by his head like a bull, and runs at Victor, who rips the jacket away at the last second. The man stumbles and Victor reaches out to catch him around the waist.

The man pulls Victor back into their dance. Just as the song comes to a close, he places one hand on Victor’s back, one hand on the back of his head, and dips him.

Victor struggles to catch his breath in between bouts of laughter. The man laughs so hard he snorts, which makes him laugh even harder. Victor thinks he might be in love.

And then the clock chimes.

The man pulls away so quickly that Victor stumbles, struggling to find his balance.

“What time is it?” he whispers.

“...Midnight,” Victor answers warily. 

All around them, people start taking off their masks, rubbing the indents left behind. The man’s hands fly to his face, as if he’s afraid his mask has disappeared. The mirth in his expression is completely gone, replaced by panic. “I- I can’t--”

Victor pulls his own mask off, stepping towards his dance partner. “Hey, are you okay?”

The man flinches away from his touch, staggering backwards. He shakes his head. “I-I-I-I have to-- I can’t-- I have to go.”

“Why?”

“I can’t, I-I can’t, I have to-- Phichit will want his clothes back, I have to- my dog, I need to let out my dog, I--”

Victor takes another step towards him. “Please, just--”

“I have to go,” the man whispers, then turns on his heel and makes a break for it.

“Wait!” Victor cries. He runs after him, but despite being drunk, the man is faster, and he makes it out the door and down the stairs before Victor can catch up.

“I don’t even know your name!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah that's right we have three days of parties up in here


	2. breaking news: local man is very gay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor pines. Yuuri gets peer pressured. Yurio wants to be somewhere else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> otayuri nation come get y'all crumbs

Yuuri wakes up the morning after the ball with a pounding headache, still in his borrowed clothes. He sits up and blearily rubs the sleep from his eyes, blindly reaching for the glass of water he keeps near his bed. His memory of last night is foggy at best, and completely lacking in some parts.

Hopefully he didn’t do anything _too_ crazy. 

Once he locates the water glass, he chugs it, rubbing his forehead. He sighs.

Well. That was a fucking disaster.

It wasn’t like he had much of a shot with Victor anyway, but any shot he _did_ have was completely gone now. 

He had one shot, and he blew it. What were the odds of the prince throwing another ball like that again?

~~~

“I think I’m going to throw another ball,” Victor says.

Yuri spits out his drink. “You’re _kidding,”_ he says.

“Nope!”

Yakov very carefully sets his book down, presses his hands together in a prayer position, and lets out a slow, even breath. “I am going to strangle you.”

Victor sits up from where he’d been lounging with a pout. “Why??”

“What was the point of the ball we held _last night?”_

“Well, I didn’t get to learn the name of the man I danced with. I want him.”

“You can’t- Vitya.” Yakov says, looking very much like he’s trying to suppress an aneurysm.

Victor stands and crosses the room, leaning against the windowsill and gazing out at the snow covered courtyard below. He sighs dreamily. “He was just so…”

“Drunk?” supplies Yuri.

 _“Beautiful,”_ Victor sighs.

Yuri gags. “Someone kill me.”

“You don’t understand love, Yura.”

 _“You_ don’t understand love, Victor. You danced with him for what, five minutes?”

“Ten,” Victor corrects.

_“That’s not better.”_

“I just know he’s the one! He was so beautiful and I’ve never had so much fun in my entire life. The way I felt when he smiled at me--”

Yuri stands, hands up in surrender. “I can’t deal with this. I’m going out for katsudon,” he says, and leaves, slamming the door shut behind him. Victor watches his reflection in the window.

Yakov snaps his fingers. “Vitya, focus. We had the ball, you embarrassed yourself dancing with a drunk man in front of the entire kingdom, and you _still_ need to pick a suitor.”

Victor turns to face him. “I told you,” he says slowly, like he’s talking to a child, “the mystery man.”

“SOMEONE YOU _KNOW.”_

~~~

The bell above the door rings. Yuuri looks away from the window he’d been gazing out of to see a man with curly blonde hair enter. Something about him pings the recognition center of his brain, but he can’t quite put a finger on what about him is so familiar.

“Hey! I didn’t catch your name at the ball last night,” the man says, leaning against the reception desk. Yuuri blinks.

“Hm?”

The man smiles knowingly and extends a hand. “Ah, you probably don’t remember. I’m Christophe, we spoke briefly at the ball.”

Yuuri shakes his hand. “Sorry for not recognizing you. I have a lot on my mind. My name’s Yuuri.”

Christophe nods. “So this is the hot springs. You do food here too, right?”

“Yeah, it’s kind of like an inn. We have rooms open if you’re looking to stay?”

“No, no, just wanted to pop in for a visit.”

“Right,” Yuuri says, draping his dish towel over one shoulder. “You wanted something to eat? We have--”

“Whatever you recommend!” Christophe says with a wink.

Yuuri is baffled, to say the least.

The next customer comes in, though, and he can’t spend anymore time pondering over it.

~~~

So _this_ is what the guy’s like when he’s not blackout drunk, Christophe thinks. He’s cute. The glasses are a good look for him. 

~~~

“I just can’t win with you.” Yakov sighs.

“Nope!”

 _“Fine._ We’ll have another ball so you can find your mystery man, as long as you don’t blow the budget on this and don’t go overboard."

“Yakov, I’m the prince. I can do what I want, and what I want is to be gay and in love.”

~~~

Yuri didn’t expect to see Chris here too, but as long as they don’t interact and Yuri still gets his katsudon, it’s leagues better than being in the same room as Victor.

~~~

Phichit slams a slip of paper down on the counter in front of Yuuri.

“Great news!” he says, panting. 

“Did you run all the way here?” Yuuri says.

“Not important!” Phichit says, “what _is_ important is that the prince is having another ball!”

“What?”

“Look!”

Yuuri picks up the piece of paper and looks at it, really looks at it. It’s dark blue with glittering golden lettering, much like the first invitation.

The prince is giving another ball.

Looks like he might have another shot after all.

“You said you talked to him after he saw you skating, right? And you said you didn’t talk to him at the ball. So he must want to see you so badly that he’s throwing a second one!”

“Phichit, that doesn’t make any sense.”

“But it _does!_ Why _else_ would he throw a second ball?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t meet anyone he wanted to marry, I guess?”

“Exactly! Because he didn’t meet _you!”_

Yuuri laughs. “Phichit, I love you, but that’s ridiculous.”

Phichit whines. “You _have_ to go to the ball again, Yuuri. We can give you another makeover!”

“I don’t want to take your fancy clothes, Phichit. I’m sure you’d like to go to the ball more than I would.”

Phichit waves his hand dismissively. “Nah, I’ve got a thing with Seung Gil tonight. I don’t need fancy clothes.”

Yuuri grins mischievously and leans forward, raising his eyebrows. “You _sure_ you don’t need fancy clothes? You know, for your _thing_ with Seung Gil?”

Phichit hits Yuuri on the arm. “Hey, this is about _you,_ not me. _I_ have the ability to realize I want to spend time with the person I like. _You_ still need convincing, apparently.”

Yuuri sighs. “I’ll go to the ball.”

Phichit cheers.

The scene plays out much the same as it did the night before: they go through Phichit’s closet for what seems like hours until they finally find something Phichit doesn’t dismiss as not meeting his very specific and very confusing requirements.

Tonight, Yuuri finds himself dressed in an outfit similar to last night’s, but this time, the shirt is white.

“What do you think?” Phichit says. “Wait, hold on--”

He shifts some clothes in the pile around and holds up a golden sash. He pins it diagonally across Yuuri’s chest, and secures a second sash as a belt around his waist. “Perfect. Thoughts?”

Yuuri examines his reflection, running his hand through his hair to see how it would look complete with hairstyling.

“Lovely.”

“Great, because I’m running out of clothes. Come sit down, I need to do your hair.”

~~~

Victor hasn’t put this much thought into an outfit in _years._ And that’s saying something, because he’s a fashion icon.

“Don’t you have to go find your mystery man?” Yuri calls from the doorway.

“Ah, but _finding_ him won’t mean anything if I don’t look good while doing it!”

“No suit needs that many ruffles.”

Victor looks down at the white ruffles peeking out from the sleeves of his dark green suit jacket. “You’d think that, wouldn’t you.”

“What is that even supposed to _mean?”_

~~~

The ballroom is even more intimidating the second time. Yuuri pauses in the doorway, heart leaping into his throat.

He knows the ball isn’t meant for him, he _knows_ that, but still… Phichit implanted the idea in his mind, and now he can’t stop thinking about it.

What if Victor _does_ want to see him again?

Yuuri hopes he doesn’t sweat too much under the mask. He doesn’t want to deal with acne like this.

He spots Victor quicker than the first time. It helps that he’s also wearing an incredibly extravagant outfit (why does it have so many ruffles?) in addition to his already very identifiable silver hair. He’s scanning the crowd for… something.

Well. He _did_ want another shot at this, so… might as well.

Yuuri makes his way over to Victor.

He’s halfway across the room when their eyes meet. Behind his mask, Victor’s eyes widen comically, and a heart-shaped smile forms on his face.

“It’s you!”

Yuuri falters in his stride, glancing around him to make sure Victor isn’t talking to someone else, but everyone seems preoccupied with their own conversations. Any doubts are quelled when Victor abandons his station and runs over to meet him.

“Prince Victor,” Yuuri starts, and then stops. He didn’t have a sentence planned before he started talking.

“I don’t know your name,” Victor says.

Yuuri opens his mouth to reply, but what comes out instead is: “Why are you wearing so many ruffles?”

His face flushes. Why did he _say_ that? And to the prince, of all people.

But Victor laughs. “I wanted to look nice. You’re beautiful.”

Yuuri blushes harder. “I- thank you. You _do_ look nice, by the way. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“Not at all.” If possible, Victor’s smile widens. “Would you like to dance?” he asks, already taking Yuuri’s hand.

Yuuri is at a loss for words. He hadn’t expected-- did Victor really remember him? It seems unreal. He doesn’t want to be rude, though, so he smiles and nods mutely.

Victor puts his other hand on Yuuri’s waist and pulls him close, leading them out onto the dance floor. There’s a waltz playing, and Yuuri doesn’t know the steps, but he follows Victor’s lead. He’s proud to say he only steps on Victor’s feet twice (followed by profuse apologies, which Victor dismisses with a smile).

~~~

Victor is smitten.

The man (regrettably, he still does not know his name) is somehow even more beautiful tonight than last night. Throughout the whole dance, he can’t take his eyes off of him. The man’s eyes sparkle when he looks at Victor, drinking in his presence like he can’t believe he’s really there. 

The song ends and the next begins, this time a more energetic piece that requires switching partners. Victor doesn’t want to let his dance partner out of his sight, but Chris swoops in with a wink, so he knows it’ll be fine.

Well. Unless Chris decides to steal his man, but he probably won’t do that.

Probably.

Victor is reunited with his mystery man at the end of the song, and the music transitions into another.

He loses track of time.

~~~

The song comes to a close. Victor drops Yuuri’s hand. “Wait,” he says. “I need a break.”

Yuuri laughs and follows him off of the dance floor. 

“Care to take a turn with me?” Victor says, offering his arm out to Yuuri, who takes it after a moment’s hesitation.

Victor leads him out of the ballroom and down a few corridors until they’re outside in the snowy gardens. The night air is cold and crisp. Yuuri’s sure the stars would be beautiful, but he’s not wearing his glasses. Oh well.

“I still don’t know your name,” Victor says.

“Why did you have a second ball?” Yuuri says at the same time.

Victor smiles. “To find you, of course.”

Yuuri’s eyes widen. “Really?”

“Yes!” Victor says. His breath comes out in a plume of frosty air. “You’re wonderful. I want to know everything there is to know about you.”

Yuuri shakes his head. “I don't-- why?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” says Victor, completely _not_ answering the question. “Tell me everything about you.”

“There’s not a lot to say,” Yuuri replies. “I’m not very interesting.”

They pass under an archway and come to a clearing surrounded in neatly trimmed hedges, dusted with snow. In the center is a stone fountain. It’s not running, but the snow still gives it a lovely effect. Victor takes Yuuri’s hands and gazes into his eyes. 

“I want to know… do you have a lover?”

Yuuri yelps and pulls away. “What?”

“Ex-lovers? Feelings for anyone?”

“I-- uh, no comment?”

“What do you like to do? Dance? Baking? Piano?”

“Um, I’m not sure.”

Victor pouts. “How will I ever get to know you if you don’t tell me anything?”

Yuuri huffs out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I-- well. I figure skate?”

Victor waits.

“Um. I’ve taken dance classes from our family friend Minako for my whole life? She’s the one who really encouraged me to take up skating in the first place.”

“That’s why you were so quick at picking up those dances!”

“Yeah, um. My favorite food is katsudon, I guess. Uh, I have a dog? His name is--” Yuuri cuts himself off. He can’t exactly tell Victor that he has a dog named Vicchan, can he. “Well, uh. He’s a poodle.”

Victor gasps. “I have a poodle! Her name is Makkachin, would you like to meet her?”

Yuuri laughs. “Of course.”

Victor grabs his hand and pulls him along, back inside the castle and up a flight of stairs, down a corridor and into a parlor, where a brown poodle is dozing next to the fireplace.

Yuuri kneels next to her and holds out his hand for her to sniff. She licks him and tries to climb into his lap, giving her best attempt at licking his mask off of his face. Yuuri giggles and scratches the fur behind her ears. “Aw, you’re a good dog, aren’t you? So nice and polite. It’s a wonder Victor’s the one who trained you.”

Victor scoffs. “I take offense to that,” he says, but there’s no bite to his words.

Makkachin continues in her mission to get dog hair over every article of Yuuri’s borrowed clothing, so Yuuri continues to pet her. “Do you think our dogs would be friends?”

“My gut instinct is yes, but that might just be because Makkachin likes you so much.” Victor crouches next to them. “She has good taste,” he says, ruffling her ears. Makkachin barks in agreement.

~~~

Yuri lost track of Victor and his mystery man a while back. Good. He would rather die than have to look at Victor’s lovesick expression for another second.

And then, because he has nothing else to do, he says this to the person standing next to him.

“I would rather die than look at Victor’s lovesick expression for another second.”

“You’ve said that already,” says Otabek.

“I know. It’s still true.”

“I believe that.”

“Yeah, lucky you haven’t been in the same room as him when he’s waxing poetic about the exact shade of brown of this guy’s eyes. It’s disgusting.”

Otabek doesn’t reply, so Yuri continues to rant.

“How dramatic do you have to be to throw an entire ball just to see the guy you had _one_ conversation with again? It’s ridiculous even for him! He’s going senile, I tell you.”

“He’s twenty seven.”

“Exactly! He’s an old man at this point. And that old man brain is even stupider than his _not_ old brain.”

Victor chooses this moment to re-enter the ballroom, hand in hand with his mystery man.

Great. He’s going to be insufferable tomorrow.

The mystery man’s pants are also covered in dog hair. Guess that explains where they’d disappeared to.

He’s laughing at something Victor just said, holding onto his arm in that gross way couples do, and Victor is looking at him like he’s the most precious thing in the world, and Yuri wants to throw up.

Aaaaand they’re walking this way. Damn it.

Yuri grabs Otabek’s hand. “I’m not going to subject you to Victor’s poetics,” he says, tugging him along. They pass by Victor on their way to the other side of the ballroom, and he opens his mouth to greet them, but Yuri shoots him a glare and he stops.

He has no patience for this today.

Yuri does allow himself to get another look at the mystery man himself, though. He’s a _little_ curious.

He looks a bit familiar…

But Yuri’s not good with faces anyway, so it doesn’t really mean anything.

The only enjoyable part of this ball has been watching Yakov try his damndest to not look happy for Victor.

~~~

The clock chimes.

Yuuri doesn’t think much of it. It does that every hour, after all.

That is, until everyone starts removing their masks.

“I didn’t realize it was that late already!” Victor says. He pulls his mask off and looks expectantly over at Yuuri, and Yuuri has to _leave,_ and he has to leave _now._

Subconsciously, he touches his mask to make sure it’s still there.

“Are you--”

“I have to go,” Yuuri blurts.

“What?”

“I have to go.”

“Again?”

Yuuri can’t even begin to parse what _that_ means. He just knows he has to get out of here. He can’t _believe_ how stupid he is. Once Victor finds out he’s not anything special, he won’t want anything to do with him anymore, and this night has been so wonderful and perfect and he doesn’t want to lose that. He can’t lose it. He can’t let Victor _see him._

Victor reaches out. To touch him, console him, take off his mask, Yuuri doesn’t _know_ , he just knows he has to _leave._

“You can’t go.” Victor steps towards Yuuri, smile fading. “I _still_ don’t even know your name.”

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri says. He ducks around Victor and runs into the crowd, murmuring apologies as he pushes his way through to the door at the end of the room.

“Wait!”

Victor is running after him.

Panic sets in.

With a burst of speed Yuuri didn’t know he had in him, he bursts through the palace doors and flies down the steps, breaking into a sprint the second his foot hits solid ground.

“Wait, please!” Victor yells, but Yuuri’s already gone.

~~~

Victor slows to a halt at the palace gate. The energy leaves him in a rush and he’s just _tired._

That man vanished before he could tell Victor his name _again,_ and he doesn’t know _why._

He thought he did everything right! He danced with him, he showed him his dog, and he _seemed_ like he was having a really good time! Why didn’t he want Victor to know who he was?

Victor’s breath comes out in a plume of cold vapor. Snow drifts through the air, further obscuring the path the man had taken.

Victor grits his teeth.

He has to try again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why yes, victor's outfit IS supposed to look like his costume from the ice adolescence trailer


	3. victor's new plan (derogatory)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor comes up with another brilliant idea. Yuuri gains an ally. Yurio takes a break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fellas is it gay to host an extravagant ball 3 days in a row in the hopes that one specific person attends?
> 
> victor's having a gatsby moment

Victor is busy lamenting the loss of his mysterious dance partner, which means Yuri is busy not being in the same building as him.

Instead, he finds himself at one of his usual haunts: the Yu-topia Inn and Hot Springs. Like most inns around the town, it also serves as a good place to stop for lunch. The katsudon is literally to die for (though it doesn’t compare to his grandfather’s pirozhki, of course). Yuri hasn’t had a reason to actually stay in a room at the inn before, but based on the way things are going with Victor, that may have to change.

Mari, the daughter of the owners, is manning the front counter when he walks in. She smiles when she sees him.

“Oh, Yurio! Nice to see you!”

“Don’t call me that. Katsudon?”

“Are you asking for the dish or the person?”

“Dish.”

“I’ll get him for you anyway.”

She calls over her shoulder in Japanese, relaying Yuri’s order as well as summoning the only other person besides Otabek that Yuri willingly tolerates.

Japanese Yuuri enters the room at his sister’s summon, and brightens when he sees Yuri sitting at the counter. “Oh, hi Yurio! How’s everything going?”

“I am _this_ close to committing a murder.”

Yuuri is unfazed by this statement. “Tell me about it,” he says. “Things have been crazy for me, too. Wanna talk about it?”

Yuri makes a face. “You sound like a therapist.”

“Sorry, can’t help it.”

Mari slides a bowl of katsudon in front of Yuri. “Tab?”

“Yep,” Yuri says, fumbling with his chopsticks until he holds them _basically_ correctly. “Vitya’s been insufferable.”

Yuuri waits for him to elaborate.

With a mouthful of egg, Yuri says, “He won’t stop complaining about his love life and it’s disgusting. Some of us have _work_ or _studies_ to get to.”

Yuuri snorts. “My friends have been trying to play matchmaker recently,” he says. Yuri groans.

“Gross.”

“Yeah, kinda. The person they’re trying to set me up with is nice, but it’s a little unrealistic. I really like him, but he definitely has better options. I just wish my friends would _stop._ ”

“Be glad you don’t have to put up with Vitya’s pining. It’s seriously nausea inducing. The more words that come out of his mouth, the closer I am to burying a knife in his chest.”

A couple feet away, cleaning the counter, Mari listens with growing interest, but is careful not to let the boys know she’s eavesdropping. She finds herself cleaning the same spot for the fifth time.

~~~

“You are _not_ throwing another ball,” Yakov growls.

“No, listen. I have it all figured out.”

“That’s what you said three days ago.”

“This time I really mean it!” Victor says. “Now, get this. Every night at midnight, the mystery man runs away. But he always takes the same stairs. So hear me out--”

“This is going to be terrible,” Yakov mutters.

“--if I spread _pitch_ on the stairs, he’ll get stuck and he can’t run away!”

“It’s somehow worse than I expected.”

Yakov pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and sighs, heavily. He can’t even work up the energy to be _truly_ mad at Victor like he wants to be. He’s _so_ tired. 

Victor shrugs. “If you have a _better_ idea, I’d love to hear it.”

_“Anything_ would be better than spreading _pitch_ on the stairs like some sort of insane trap. People are going to have to clean that up, you know.”

Yuri pauses in the doorway. He looks between Yakov’s exasperated posture and Victor’s general air, frowning. “I’m not even going to ask,” he says, and leaves again.

“It’s one more night. One more ball. This time, it’ll work, I promise.”

“I hope you apologize to the poor man for ruining his shoes, Vitya.”

~~~

Against all odds, the prince is giving _another_ ball.

The invitation is purple this time, with silver ink glittering up at him. Yuuri looks at it, _really_ looks at it, until the information finally sinks in.

Yuuri is out the door and heading to Phichit’s house before he processes what he’s doing.

But before he gets too far, his sister calls after him.

“Wait, wait! You’re going to Phichit’s, right?” Mari says, jogging over to him.

“Uh, yes.”

“‘Cause you’re going to the ball, right?”

Yuuri blushes. “Um. Yes.”

“Because you’re the mysterious stranger that’s been dancing with him every night, right?”

Yuuri chokes. “I-- _what?”_

Mari smirks. “Thought so. Look, you’re not going to Phichit’s tonight.”

“I’m not?”

“No. Phichit is coming here, and we’re going to make sure you look so stunning that there’s no way the prince won’t fall in love with you. I mean, he’s already thrown parties three days in a row to find you, but it can’t hurt.”

Yuuri doesn’t even know how she figured it out. He wracks his brain for anything he might’ve let slip, but he comes up empty. The only thing he can think of is Mari’s freaky older sister telepathy. 

“Um. Okay?”

“Good. If I have to watch you stare wistfully out the window one more time I’m gonna vomit.”

Does he do that? “I don’t stare wistfully out the window,” Yuuri says.

Mari gives him a Look.

“Okay, fine. I’ll stop staring out the window.”

“Good. Now we just need Phichit.”

As if on cue, Phichit rounds the corner, sprinting at them and waving a colorful invitation in the air. “Yuuri! The prince is having another--”

“--Another ball, yeah.”

Mari intercepts Phichit before he can collide with Yuuri. “Listen, Phichit. My brother has no social life other than you and some angry teenager who comes in for pork cutlet bowls sometimes.”

“Hey!” Yuuri protests. Mari ignores him.

“This is our chance. We have to give him the makeover of a lifetime to make _sure_ the prince is completely in love with him.”

Phichit claps his hands together. “You have no idea how ready I am for this.”

Somehow, this night’s makeover seems to take even longer than the previous ones. Something about Mari and Phichit working together makes Yuuri even more anxious than he had been before, as well. They have... conflicting ideas of fashion.

“He’s been in light colors for the last two nights!” Phichit insists.

_“Exactly,_ which is why we need _tonight_ to stand out! He has to have a more contrasting color palette.”

Yuuri sits on his bed and watches them go back and forth. He has a feeling he’ll be here a while.

Eventually, they agree on a darker color scheme.

“See? It matches his hair and contrasts with his skin. I know what I’m doing.”

“If we go with this lower cut jacket, it’s a little sexy, too.”

“Do _not_ call my brother sexy while I’m in the same room.”

~~~

Chris whistles when he sees Victor’s outfit.

_“Really_ want everyone to know you’re gay, huh?”

Victor looks down at tonight’s outfit, a pink jacket with golden buttons and gold details on the shoulders. He looks back up at Christophe. “If they’re just _now_ finding out I’m gay, then that’s on them for not paying attention.”

“Can’t argue with that logic,” Chris says. “I hope you find out who your mystery man is.”

Chris already knows who the mystery man is, of course, but he feels no need to share this information. This is _way_ more fun.

~~~

Over the past two days, Yuuri has had some wonderful outfits, but this…

Yuuri thinks he might believe Victor’s claim that he’s beautiful.

He stares at himself in the mirror just a touch too long, admiring the way his jacket glitters in the candlelight. His hair has yet to be slicked back, but even so… he feels good. He feels _confident._

“I’m going to do this,” he whispers to himself.

“You fucking better,” Mari says. “We spent _hours_ trying to put that together.”

~~~

Victor sees him the moment he enters the ballroom.

His mysterious stranger is even more beautiful than the nights before, anxiously tugging at the hem of his suit jacket.

His dark hair has once again been slicked back, with strands of it framing his face. His jacket is a dark blue, fastened by a thick gray belt that’s been embroidered with blue and purple embellishments. The fabric of the jacket glitters when he moves.

“You came!” Victor says, running up to him. He takes the man’s hand and presses his lips to his knuckles.

“I did,” the man says. “Did you throw this just to find me?”

Victor takes his other hand. “I did.” He grins. “And you’re here!”

“I’m here,” the man repeats, like he doesn’t quite believe it. Then, before Victor has a chance to speak, he asks, “Would you care to dance?”

Victor couldn’t stop smiling if he wanted to. “Do you have to ask?”

They join a couple of dances, but after the third waltz or so, Victor leads the man off of the ballroom floor.

“Take a turn with me,” he says. The man smiles at him in a way that sends Victor’s heart racing and takes his arm without hesitation.

~~~

Yuuri leans back on his hands from where he sits on the garden bench, watching Victor tell his story. He breaks eye contact frequently to stare at another focal point, but meets Yuuri’s eyes whenever he needs to emphasize his point. 

“So now we have a compromise. Yura has to keep his cat on one side of the castle and I keep Makkachin on the other side,” Victor concludes. “That cat takes after Yura’s temper _way_ too well.”

Yuuri smiles. “I believe it.”

“What about you?”

“Oh, my friend Phichit has these hamsters? They look really cute, but it’s a trap. I can’t count how many times I’ve nearly lost a finger to those little guys. Completely harmless with Phichit, but if I even _breathe_ in their direction, they turn into furry little demons.”

“Ah, the duality of man.” Victor takes Yuuri’s hand and Yuuri feels his face grow warm. 

Victor is-- Yuuri’s not sure how to describe him. He’s different than Yuuri expected. He’s excitable, and warm, and _genuine,_ and completely unlike anything his reputation led him to believe. 

“Why don’t you want me to know who you are?” Victor asks. Yuuri blinks, snapping out of his thoughts.

“I--” He frowns. “I don’t know. I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

Victor looks genuinely hurt. “I could never be disappointed with you.”

_But you would be,_ Yuuri’s brain supplies. _Once you find out I’m nothing special._

“I’m not sure.”

Victor looks down at their hands, rubbing his thumb over Yuuri’s. “I could never be disappointed with you,” he repeats, voice so quiet Yuuri almost misses it. “I was so _lonely_ before. I can’t remember the last time I had fun _,_ until I met you. You’re so wonderful. You’re so wonderful.”

Yuuri’s face burns.

“I--” he starts. He clears his throat and squeezes Victor’s hand. “You keep surprising me.”

Victor meets his eyes.

They’re so close, Yuuri could count each one of Victor’s eyelashes.

“Tell me your name,” Victor whispers.

Yuuri takes a breath and closes his eyes. If he does, there’ll be no going back.

He can feel Victor’s breath, hot in the winter night air. He wonders if Victor can hear his heart pounding in his throat.

“Yuuri,” he breathes.

~~~

The clock strikes twelve.

The man-- _Yuuri_ goes rigid.

Victor tightens his hold on Yuuri’s hand. 

“Don’t leave,” he pleads.

Yuuri meets his eyes, brow furrowed and lips pursed in an apology. “I--”

_“Please.”_

Yuuri touches his mask gingerly. The dream-like expression he’d had just moments ago is gone now, replaced with anxiety.

“I don’t want to disappoint you,” he says, pulling away from Victor. He stands and starts towards the door.

“You _won’t,”_ Victor says. He follows Yuuri to the door, but he flinches away from Victor’s touch. Victor’s heart _drops._

“I’m sorry, I really am,” Yuuri says, casting a glance back at him. “I just- I’m not as wonderful as you think I am.”

_“Yuuri,”_ Victor says, and he thinks he sees Yuuri falter, but he shakes his head and vanishes into the ballroom.

But Victor is _not_ giving up.

He chases after Yuuri, who’s running through the crowd to the front entrance. The dancers part as Victor approaches, giving him a straight shot, but Yuuri is faster. He pushes through the doors and descends the stairs. Except--

Except Victor had the stairs covered in pitch once everyone had arrived, and Yuuri’s left foot is stuck.

He looks back at Victor, eyes wide. Victor pauses at the top of the steps, trying to catch his breath as Yuuri processes the situation.

And then Yuuri leans down, unties his laces, and slips his left shoe off.

Victor blinks.

Yuuri takes off down the stairs and disappears beyond the palace gates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyyy the shoe has finally been left and it only took us *checks notes* about 9,000 words!
> 
> not sure yurio would call victor vitya but it's important for plot reasons so don't come for me
> 
> and yes, yuuri's outfit IS his free skate outfit  
> also victor's is his stammi vicino costume


	4. yurio solves everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor has a crisis. Yuuri takes a stand. Yurio chooses violence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was the most fun to write sorry in advance

Victor is staring at the steps when Yuri exits the ballroom.

“Looks like your creepy idea didn’t work, old man,” he says. Victor ignores the old man comment and walks down to the middle of the staircase, where something is stuck in the pitch.

“No, it worked,” Victor says, despite the clear absence of his dance partner. He leans down and pries something out of the tar. “I just forgot that shoes are removable.”

“Holy shit,” Yuri says. “I can’t believe this.”

Yakov arrives on the scene next. “We are not throwing another ball just because your stupid tar thing didn’t work.”

“We don’t need to,” says Victor. He holds up the shoe, a standard black Oxford. “I have a clue now.”

Silence.

Then, both at once--

“What the _hell,_ old man?” and “You’re _not_ seriously thinking you could--”

“--We just have to find a man who fits this shoe.”

More silence. Victor looks up at them expectantly.

Yuri is _this close_ to shoving Victor down the stairs in an attempt to snap his neck.

“That is your absolute _dumbest_ idea yet, in a long line of really, _really_ bad ideas.”

“It’s not like I have that much to go on!” Victor cries.

“How have you not learned _any_ information about him over the past _three days_ that you can use to find him?” Yuri says.

“In my defense,” Victor says, climbing back up the stairs to meet them. “He was wearing a masquerade mask the whole time, and he was all dressed up for the ball. I have no way of knowing if he usually wears his hair like that or not! I know his friend’s name, but I don’t know anything about what his friend looks like, so I can’t use that. All I know is that he has black hair, brown eyes, and” --he looks at the inside of the dress shoe-- “he wears a nine in men’s shoes.”

_“Great,”_ Yuri hisses. _“That’s so helpful.”_

Yakov glares at Victor. “And _how,_ exactly, will we find a man using his shoe?”

“Well, we just have to go around and try the shoe on anyone who fits the description.”

“Holy shit,” Yuri says again. “This is going to _suck.”_

“I’m not helping you,” Yakov says. “I’ve suffered enough.”

“Wait, but _I_ have to help him?” Yuri yells.

“Yes. Have fun,” Yakov replies, and walks back inside.

“Damn it.”

~~~

Mari and Phichit are waiting for Yuuri when he opens the door, panting.

“You’re back!” Phichit says, springing from his chair and flinging his arms out for a hug. Then he pauses. “Wait, why are you back already? And where’s your other shoe?”

“I” --Yuuri pauses to catch his breath-- “I left.”

“Oh, I _know_ I didn’t spend three hours getting you ready for you to leave _early,”_ Mari says, setting her book down. “You _didn’t,_ right? The prince knows who you are?”

Yuuri does not respond.

“For fuck’s sake, Yuuri!” she says.

“I’m sorry. I panicked.”

Phichit wraps his arms around him in a hug, which Yuuri graciously returns. “The good news is we know Victor’s thirsty enough to throw another ball, so you have another shot.”

Yuuri shakes his head. “I don’t know if I can go to another ball.”

Phichit pulls away from the hug, incredulous. “You’re _kidding._ You have a prince pining over you _this badly_ and you don’t want to see him again?”

“I do want to see him again! But I don’t want him to know I’m” --Yuuri gestures to himself-- “like _this.”_

“Nice, cool, and sexy?”

Despite himself, Yuuri laughs. _“No._ Like- average. Dime a dozen. He’s so perfect, and I’m just… not.”

Mari rolls her eyes. “Yuuri, you have issues.”

~~~

The shoe fitting is not going well.

Victor sits back on his heels, holding the shoe as the most recent candidate exits the room, muttering to himself.

He knew this was probably the worst way to find his dance partner, but he _really_ miscalculated the amount of men who wore a size nine.

“I don’t know what I expected,” he says, and Yuri barks out a laugh.

Victor scowls.

~~~

“Yuuri, the shoe you lost last night wouldn’t happen to be the shoe that Prince Victor is using to track down his long lost love, would it?”

Yuuri chokes on his tea. “He’s _what?”_

Mari sits down at the table across from him and slides a slip of paper towards him. It’s not as fancy as the ball invitations, but it’s definitely a royal notice.

Yuuri looks at it.

_Really_ looks at it.

“The prince… is having a _shoe fitting…_ because I left my shoe on the palace steps,” he says, not quite comprehending.

The door slams open. “Did you hear--”

“--yes, Phichit, we know about the shoe fitting,” interrupts Mari. “Are you going, Yuuri?”

“I-- I probably should,” he says.

“You _have_ to,” Phichit says. He grips Yuuri’s shoulders and forces him to make eye contact. “This man is so ridiculously, desperately in love with you that if you don’t go, I will _drag you there.”_

Yuuri opens his mouth to protest, but stops. He thinks about it.

...This is stupid. He’s a grown ass man. He can’t keep running away like this. Victor wants him, and he wants Victor, and if he presents himself to Victor and he changes his mind, then fine. He’ll get over it.

“You’re right,” he says.

“Come _on,_ Yuuri, just trust me on this one-- wait. What did you say?”

“You’re right.” Yuuri stands, adjusting his glasses. “I have to tell him it was me.”

Phichit and Mari stare at him, wide-eyed.

“If he doesn’t like me, he doesn’t like me. I can do this.”

Phichit grins. “Hell _yes,_ king!”

Yuuri laughs. “Not a king.”

_“Yet.”_

Mari claps him on the shoulder. “Go get your man Yuuri.”

Yuuri grabs his coat from the coat rack, takes the flyer from Phichit, and makes his way down the street towards the palace.

~~~

Victor groans. It’s been six hours and they have gotten exactly _nowhere._ What if he just didn’t show up? What would he do then?

“You’re _sure_ he didn’t tell you _anything_ that would help you find him,” Yuri says.

“Yes! This is all I--”

Victor freezes.

_How could he forget?_

In his haste to find whoever fit the shoe, he forgot that his dance partner _told him his name._

“His name is Yuuri,” Victor whispers.

“What?”

“His name is Yuuri!” Victor repeats, jumping to his feet. Yuri frowns.

“Hold on,” he says, but Victor isn’t listening. He waves off the next candidate and runs to grab his coat.

“His name is Yuuri, he told me last night. His name is Yuuri. I can’t believe it slipped my mind, I’m an _idiot--”_

Yuri waves his hands. “Wait, wait, wait. His name is Yuuri?”

“Yes?” Victor can’t imagine what’s going through Yuri’s head right now, but he can practically see the detective arithmetic forming around his head.

“His name is _Yuuri?”_

“Yes?”

Yuri grabs Victor’s shoulders and holds him in place, staring at him with the most intense expression Victor has ever seen on Yuri’s face. His eyes bore into him, cold and determined.

“You’re talking about _Yuuri?_ Japanese Yuuri? Favorite food is katsudon Yuuri? Black hair, brown eyes, _works at a hot springs_ Yuuri? _That_ Yuuri?”

Victor’s jaw drops. “You _know_ him?”

“I can’t believe you’ve been pining after _Yuuri--”_

Victor’s heart pounds in his ears. He feels like he’s underwater. “You’re telling me you _know who he is?”_

“Yes, holy shit.”

_“Why are we still here?_ Go! Go, go, go!”

Yuri snaps into action, snatching his coat from where he’d tossed it haphazardly onto a chair, and takes off running down the street, with Victor hot on his heels.

“I’m only doing this for you so you stop waxing poetic about his eyes!” Yuri yells over his shoulder.

“That’s fine! Just _go!”_

~~~

The door to the inn slams open. Mari looks up from her book and sincerely hopes the wall isn’t taking too much of a beating from all the times the door has smashed into it.

_“Where’s Katsudon?”_ Yurio demands. His face is flushed and his forehead is shiny with sweat. His chest heaves as he sucks in ragged breaths.

“What? Why?”

Someone else enters the inn, and the book slips from Mari’s grasp, hitting the table with a thud.

Prince Victor Nikiforov is standing _in her house,_ looking like he just ran a marathon. “Please, is Yuuri here?”

Phichit screams. Victor jumps, looking him over with wide eyes.

“He just left!”

“What?” Yurio says. “And we came here for _nothing?”_

“It _is_ him, isn’t it?” Victor says, looking between Phichit and Mari. “Yuuri’s the one who danced with me, right?”

Phichit nods emphatically. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he whispers to himself. He runs into Yuuri’s room and returns with the other dress shoe. “This is the other shoe. It’s him.”

Victor grins. “I _found him.”_

“Not yet, old man,” Yurio says. He turns to Mari. “Where’d he go?”

She’s already pulling her shoes on. “He went to go find _you._ We have to catch up with him. If we hurry, we can make it.”

~~~

Yuuri is at the palace steps when he hears his name.

He whirls around. Whoever said it was shouting, so--

_“Yuuri!”_

It’s Victor.

It’s Victor, and he’s full-on sprinting down the road towards him, followed by Phichit and Mari for some reason? And is that _Yurio?_

“Victor,” Yuuri says. He starts walking towards him. And then, before he knows what’s happening, he’s running.

The cold air bites at his nose, whistling past his ears as he _runs and runs and runs_ but he’s running _towards_ Victor now, not away, _never_ away--

He barely manages to slow down enough to avoid a collision.

Victor crushes Yuuri in a hug and buries his face in his shoulder. Yuuri closes his eyes and just _breathes,_ heart pounding.

“I found you,” Victor says, and Yuuri can hear the smile in his voice.

“You found me,” Yuuri says, giving a smile of his own.

Victor pulls away, but keeps his arms around Yuuri’s waist. “Why did you keep running away?”

Yuuri shrugs. “I-- well, I thought you would be disappointed. I’m not very special, just… aggressively average, I think.”

“I think you have a very low image of yourself, Yuuri.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“But you’re here now!” Victor gives a small laugh, grinning. “I don’t know what to say.”

Yuuri smiles softly. He brushes Victor’s silver hair away from his eyes. “Are you crying?”

“No. Yes.” Victor puts his hand over Yuuri’s and leans into his touch. “Yes. I’m happy. I didn’t think I would ever find you again. If it weren’t for Yura--”

“Leave me out of this, Vitya!” Yurio yells.

A startled laugh escapes Yuuri. _“You’re_ Vitya? He comes in to complain about you all the time.”

“He what?” Victor turns to look at Yurio, pouting. “Yura! How could you?”

“Hey, I didn’t know it was _him._ Besides, I’d probably still do that even if I _did_ know it was him. He deserves to know how _annoying_ you are.”

Victor rolls his eyes and looks back at Yuuri. “This all- this whole thing started because Yakov wanted me to find a suitor.”

Yuuri raises an eyebrow. “And?”

Victor presses his lips to Yuuri’s hand. He’s trembling.

“I want it to be you. Is that okay?”

Yuuri, unable to speak, simply nods.

That’s when Victor kisses him.

Phichit wolf-whistles and Yurio makes a gagging sound. Mari smacks both of them. It’s freezing outside and Yuuri’s glasses get smushed against his face and Victor’s lips are chapped and it’s _perfect._

Yuuri pulls away first.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the first ball,” Victor says.

Yuuri frowns. “I didn’t even talk to you the first night.”

Victor gapes at him. “You don’t _remember?”_

Phichit runs up to them, Yurio in tow. “Okay, _this_ is something I have to know about.”

Yurio glares at them both. “You got wasted on champagne and we had a dance off, and then you danced with Victor and he got all smitten and disgusting.”

“I did _what?”_

“It was so much fun!” Victor says. “I fell in love with you instantly.”

“While I was _blackout drunk?”_ Yuuri wails.

“Yes!”

Yuuri needs to sit down.

**fin.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aayyyyy we did it! 11k babey! this was supposed to be a oneshot but! whoops! 
> 
> anyway hope u liked it thanks for reading make sure to SMASH that kudos button and make sure to like comment and subscribe


End file.
